Boy Band Genius
by HeroXLink
Summary: A collection of drabbles on Spencer Reid's life. Everything including missed birthdays, new love interests and close moments with his team. The kind of stuff you don't see on TV. :D All pairings are ones seen on the show, as are all the characters.
1. Boy Band Haircut

Reid hadn't really thought about his hair in a couple years. He had gotten it cut when he joined the FBI, and trimmed it occasionally, but he had not gotten it cut any shorter. It reached to his shoulders in lush curly locks, and he never thought twice about it.

One week, though, he took a trip to Las Vegas to visit his mother. The heat was staggering, but to him, it felt more welcoming than uncomfortable. He was greeted with warm smiles and hugs from the people at the clinic where his mother resided. When he met her in one of the armchairs reading a book, he was overly glad that she recognized him and seemed to not be having any sort of episode.

"Spencer, baby, what is with your hair?" she cooed, frowning at him while pushing back a strand of his brown hair.

"What about it?" he asked, suddenly worried.

She smiled a little sadly at him. "Honey, you kind of look like Jesus. You should get it cut."

She returned to reading her book. Reid glanced at a mirror on the wall and self-consciously pushed his hair behind his ears. He had never really cared what people said about his hair, but he sort of thought it made him look older. Not like Jesus-old, though….

She did not make another comment about his hair the rest of his visit, but he thought about it until he touched back down in Virginia two days later. He knew he had to be to work in an hour, but a hair shop was just down the street from his office. He drove to the shopping area and walked into the barber with a sense of foreboding.

"What can I do for you, hun?" a brunette girl asked him, smiling as he glanced around the room.

"I need a haircut."

"Perfect! I'm available now," she said, beaming. "Step over here, love."

He shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair as a thin cape was draped around his body.

"How short are we talkin' here?" she asked him, wetting his hair.

He debated for a full ten seconds before saying boldly, "Whatever you think would look good."

She grinned at him wickedly and then said, "I know just what to do."

When she was done blow-drying his cut hair, he was afraid to look into the mirror. When he saw the new shaggy hair and bangs, it took him a moment to realize it was still the same Spencer Reid. He looked about five years younger, which was definitely not what he needed when he was already called 'kid' at work everyday.

Late for work, he quickly thanked and paid her before rushing to his car for work.

_Don't think about it,_ he told himself sternly as he drove into the parking lot of the FBI Headquarters. _Just don't even think about it. Maybe no one will notice. _He actually laughed to himself at the very thought as he strolled hastily through the building.

Reid entered the bullpen and was discouraged when he saw his team in the round table room. Biting back dread, he marched across the hallway and slowed his speed when he entered the room.

"Well…_hello_," said J.J., sounding surprised but pleased.

Hotch and Rossi were staring at him as if he had just come in with a fruit hat and a dress on, which Reid then believed would have been a better choice.

"What, did you join a boy band?" Hotch asked him, frowning.

The question threw Reid off for a spilt second before replying with the obvious answer, "No."

Morgan and Prentiss chuckled, and the team returned its attention back to the case at hand.

_Great,_ Reid thought savagely. _So I'm either Jesus or in a boy band._ He glanced up and caught Prentiss's eyes. She winked at him, smiling.

Well, maybe the hair cut _wasn't_ such a bad idea.


	2. Imposter

Spencer Reid had spent most of his day in a small coffee shop down the street from his school reading a few books. Still thinking about his sweet coffee, he strolled home with his messenger bag full of books. The sun had long since set, but he wasn't worried. The neighborhood was safe. No one would ever do anything bad there, especially not to him. Well, except for his fellow school peers, but they were far away from his neighborhood by that time of night.

Spencer entered his small two-story house quietly, so as not to possibly wake up his mother. However, to his slight dismay, he walked into a fully-lit entryway and living room. His mother had her back to him, but he could see her shaking and hear her muttering. Diana Reid was having another episode.

Spencer tiptoed ever so quietly past her to the hallway. However, she seemed to have heard him, because she spun around, a mad look in her eyes. She was holding a knife.

"Who are you?" she shrieked at Spencer, who now stood stock-still in the entryway.

"Mom," he said slowly, holding his hands up in a sign of innocence. "It's me, Spencer, your son."

She looked outraged. "My son's been in his room all day, you imposter!" She raised the knife.

"Mom," he said, more alarmed now, "trust me! I've been at the coffee shop down the street all day. If you check your son's room, he won't be there."

"What have you done to Spencer?" she shouted at him, her eyes flaming.

"_I'm_ Spencer, mom!" he desperately tried to convince her.

"Liar!" She rushed forward towards him, brandishing the knife. "You killed him, didn't you?"

Spencer backed away quickly. He fumbled over the doorknob for a split second before yanking the door open and running outside.

"Tell your boss you can't have Spencer!" Diana screeched at him. "No one can have Spencer!"

With that, she slammed the door. Spencer stood outside on the lawn on the verge of tears. He ran to the backyard and climbed onto tall chain link fence bordering it. When he got to the top, he balanced long enough to open his bedroom window and climb in. He closed the window and curtains, threw his bag on the ground and quickly clambered into bed.

He clicked his lamp off just as his mother burst through his bedroom door and a wave of relief broke across her face, most wrinkles in her forehead disappearing.

"Spencer," she said softly. "I'm glad you're safe."

"Me too, mom," he replied quietly, smiling at his mother.

She returned the smile before slowly closing his door and plunging his room into blackness. Spencer turned over in his bed and squeezed his pillow tight with both hands. He started to cry, thinking how he only had seven more years to live with his mother this way before he could get her the help she needed.


	3. Box of Memories

Spencer Reid walked into his dim apartment building after one of the longest days of his life. He was overly glad that most of the bank hostages had made it out alive, especially Will, but it was still a grueling day. He collapsed in his bed fully dressed seconds later and stared blankly at his ceiling light for a few minutes, his mind racing. Thoughts about the day, thoughts about J.J. and Will, and thoughts about Emily took over his head. When an hour had passed of him tossing and turning, he gave up on sleep.

Rossi had informed him and the rest of the team about the surprise wedding he was throwing them the next night. Reid had been shocked, but not overly surprised at his announcement. He'd known for years that J.J. and will would be getting married. They had a kid for goodness sake! Reid himself was the Godfather of their kid. Reid knew that his little crush should have ended shortly after it had begun, but it never really went away. The more he thought about it, those sorts of feelings never really go away.

A little heavy-hearted, Reid sat up and brewed a cup of coffee. Loaded with sugar, he made his way back to his room but stopped when he saw an old box underneath his bed barely poking out. He set his coffee on his nightstand and retrieved the box. Sitting back on the bed, he opened it.

He had almost forgotten about this box. It had been over a year since he had last opened it. Inside were several letters, a whistle, a magazine, a contact card, a football ticket, a drawing, an empty vial, a bullet, a picture, a yellow bracelet, and a small chess board.

He pulled out the folded letters. One was the letter from his father, which he set down carelessly. Another was from Gideon, which he also tossed aside. A few were from his mother which he still cherished and put them in the pile with the other two. A crisp, white letter was his acceptance letter into the Behavioral Analysis Unit, one that he valued as his greatest acceptance. The last letter was from himself…his amends.

He replaced the letters in the box and pulled out the silver whistle and smirked. Morgan had given him this whistle when he had failed his guns qualification test. Reid had thrown it back at him when he no longer needed it, but had found it in his desk drawer later that week.

Reid then picked up the hazardous magazine, with a big picture of him and Lila on the cover. He remembered the jests and praises he had gotten from this magazine and from the girl. He then grabbed the contact card with his information on it, and then turned it over to see a pink lip stick stain on the back. After staring at the lip kiss for a few seconds, he picked up the football ticket. The football game he took J.J. to had been more fun than he could have thought possible. He hadn't really followed the game very well, and had been grateful that J.J. could explain. Three girls who touched his life in rare ways, and will always remain in his heart…and his box.

The drawing in the box was a sketch of Nathan Harris that Reid had drawn himself. It meant a lot to him about Nathan coming to him, and he will never, _never_ forget the nerve-wracking feeling he experienced as he sat over Nathan, holding his sliced wrists in a desperate attempt to save him.

Next, he hesitantly pulled out the empty vial of what once contained Dilaudid. Memories of Hankle and Reid's spiral downwards from that event hit him at once, and he felt a little disgusted with himself as he set the bottle down on his bed next to his amends letter, and felt a little better.

The bullet in the box was one that once resided in Reid's leg. After he had gotten out of surgery and his knee had been bound and gagged, the doctor had offered him the bullet. Reid took it home with him and had kept it out until he could walk without crutches. To him, it served as a reminder of the life he saved that day.

He picked up the yellow beaded bracelet and studied it carefully. The gift from Julio was meant to protect him from ghosts, but it had not helped him with the headaches. He still wore it for months after he had gotten it as a sort of guide…a helping hand from something that wouldn't judge him. Eventually, though, he took it off and never put it back on.

The picture underneath all of that was the very picture Gideon had given him on the plane when they discussed Reid's nightmares. Reid had occasionally pulled it out from time to time as a solid reminder of what he does and what he has done, and why it outweighs the negatives of his job. Reid still couldn't see how Gideon missed that message. Maybe he had needed the picture more than Reid had at the time….

Then he reached the chess board. Now feelings of Gideon stirred to the surface. Reid had given up a few years back on chess when he learned its inevitable truth of predictability and repetition. It made him think about Gideon and his final decision on life similar to the life of chess—never-ending repeats of the same scenarios of either success or defeat.

Perhaps that was what Reid needed right now—a solid, firm hand on life that was safe and predictable; much unlike the past couple years of his life. He put everything else neatly into the box and pushed it back under his bed. After setting up the pieces, he began to play three steps ahead.


	4. Payback is a

Spencer Reid eyed Morgan carefully through the crowd of people in the club. The team had decided to take a night off and have some fun. Morgan stalked off and danced with a beautiful blonde girl who fell for his charms instantly. Reid had felt a little jealous at how easy it had been for Morgan to pick girls up, but he had gotten off that train ride a long time ago. Now something else boiled in Reid's mind: revenge.

Not long after the screaming trick he had pulled on Morgan, Reid had fallen pray to one of Morgan's other pranks. Reid still believed his last prank was a little below the belt.

He had walked into the bullpen one morning and to the small kitchen area in a drowsy state, desperately needing coffee. However, when he opened up the packet, there was barely a crumb of grounded coffee in the bag. Reid spent five minutes tearing the area apart looking for coffee, but to no avail. Only then did he realize Morgan facing the opposite direction at his desk, hunching over his paperwork and shaking with laughter.

Oh yes, revenge was definitely in order. The question was what to do. He would ask for advice, but this was between them…and Reid was determined to win.

He had already tampered with Morgan's technology, had already wounded his ego in basketball, but now it was time to strike elsewhere. What else made up Derek Morgan's personality?

Reid sat up straight as he found the answer while watching Morgan flirt: his masculinity.

"You alright, Reid?" Prentiss asked him, raising one fine eyebrow and smiling.

"Is that Morgan's?" he asked her, pointing to a glass on the table.

She nodded, now looking confused. "Reeeeid…" she said warningly as he grabbed the glass and made his way over to the bartender.

"What'll it be?" he asked Reid.

"The hardest thing you've got."

The buff man nodded and walked away. Seconds later, he returned with the glass full of a lime liquid.

"It's a little combination of the strongest liquor we've got. Drink that and you'll be more than drunk," he informed Reid. "Are you _sure_ you want it?" He eyed Reid's thin, lanky body with apprehension.

"Absolutely," said Reid, paying for the drink.

He set it back in its original position on the table next to Prentiss.

"Reid, what are—"

"Emily," he said, staring at her intensely, "do not tell Morgan."

She didn't agree or disagree, but rolled her eyes and struck up a conversation with J.J. at the end of the table.

Reid sipped on his Coke happily for a couple minutes before Morgan finally made his way over to the table with the pretty blonde at his heels.

"What's up, kid?" he greeted Reid. "This is Natalie. Natalie, this is Spencer."

They shook hands.

"Should we go?" Natalie whispered to Morgan.

Morgan smiled at her. "Sure thing, sugar."

"The bartender filled your drink up," said Reid very casually, indicating Morgan's glass. "I think he's charging."

Morgan muttered something, but picked up the glass and downed it. He winced.

"Ech, that is _not_ what I ordered."

Morgan shook his head distractedly and then escorted the lady out with a goodbye to everyone at the table. Reid kept a great poker face on the entire time, but once Morgan and Natalie had walked out the bar, he grinned wickedly.

"You don't even know what that was, do you?" Prentiss asked him.

"Not a clue," he replied, now smiling widely. He stretched out his arms and stood. "But I hope I find out tomorrow. See you, Emily." He waved goodbye to the rest of the team and left the bar.

The next morning, Reid sat at his desk with a large cup of coffee and a pile of paperwork in front of him. Prentiss hadn't said anything about last night, so he tried to keep a straight face even as Morgan threw his large bag down on the desk. Seconds later, Reid's chair spun around and a very angry face towered over him, glaring.

"Morning, Derek," said Reid mildly.

He could almost feel Morgan shaking with anger. "What," he said in a deadly whisper, "did you put in my drink?"

"Nothing," replied Reid truthfully.

"The fact that you know which drink I'm talking about proves that you had something to do with it."

Reid tried to force back his laughter. "Do with what?"

Morgan glared daggers at him. "When I was apparently so drunk that I couldn't find my own house, Natalie told me off for being a disposable freak and took a bus home. Then I woke up with the worst headache of my life and threw up twice. I had _one_ drink before that one you gave me." He bent down closer to Reid's face. "_One_."

Reid wondered briefly if the feeling in the back of his throat was guilt, before he opened his mouth and nothing but laughter rang out. He even heard Prentiss chuckle from his right.

"Oh, laugh all you want, Pretty Boy," snarled Morgan, stand up straight and glaring down at the laughing brunet. "Just remember what I said about paybacks."

"I will eagerly be awaiting your act of revenge," said Reid, almost tearing up from laughing so hard. "But in the mean time I'm going to enjoy this moment of victory."

He turned his chair away from a sneering Morgan, took a sip of his coffee, and returned to his paperwork. He glanced up only to see Prentiss walk by him, shaking her head but smiling all the same.


	5. Coda Melody

Spencer Reid replayed the theme in his head for hours until the team returned to the BAU office. He left rather hurriedly, getting odd looks from his team. They probably thought the last case they just finished had affected him, which was true to an extent. They all knew Reid had some social issues, especially growing up, but that was not what had kept the young doctor quiet on the plane ride home.

Somehow, Sammy had seemed to connect to Reid in ways even he couldn't explain. Where others couldn't touch Sammy, Sammy reached out to Reid and took his hand. Together they played this beautifully haunting melody that was now firmly planted in Reid's mind.

He got off the Metro, hurried through the streets, an excitement filling his insides, and entered the music store he had passed on many of his other walks. Having found a simple keyboard, Reid paid the music employee and carried it, smiling, back to the Metro. When he got to his apartment, he quickly undid the box and set up the keyboard on his living room floor.

The melody was still glued into his mind, and he remembered the exact placement of his fingers on the keys. He played the small parts Sammy had taught him with his right hand and then tried to remember what he had seen Sammy play with his left. Trying to put the two pieces together was challenging at first for Reid who had never played piano in his entire life. After a couple of hours of playing the keyboard did he finally get the song down.

It was weird. Reid had never even considered picking up a musical instrument in his entire life. Yet here he was, sitting alone in his apartment building, trying to tie together a song he had just learned. A song he learned from a young autistic boy who Reid couldn't help but relate to. A genius in the mind, yet a shy boy in the heart….


	6. It's too late, alright?

"_**I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend…"**_

Spencer Reid paced back and forth in his apartment, his hands shaking and his mind spinning. It had been less than a week since he buried his friend and he was already losing it. None of it made sense. None of it! His emotions battled between anger, remorse, loss and fear.

The anger in his head was directed purely at Doyle. It was _his_ fault his friend was dead. It was _his_ greedy hands that stabbed Prentiss. Reid had to admit, some of the anger resided in Prentiss herself. As wrong as it sounded, and as terrible as it made him feel to admit it, it was partly her fault for getting in Doyle's hands in the first place. Reid knew that she had only meant to save them, because Doyle would have targeted them next, but it still felt like a betrayal in his mind. Had she not trusted them enough? She ought to have known that they could have helped her. Prentiss laid down her life to save them, but hadn't she known that they had been willing to do the same for her?

The remorse that burned in his throat was severe. What if the team had been there sooner? What if he had figured out about "Lauren" earlier on? What if he had told someone about her picking her nails? What if he had confronted her more directly about it in the first place? What if had held her hand on the way to the hospital as she bled out? What if…what if…

He clenched his hands as more "what if's" floated through his mind. There were so many different things he could have done to save her…to protect her…but nothing could help now. He knew that.

The loss hit his heart again like a knife. Reid felt his knees buckle under him as another wave of tears that he was rare to produce flooded his eyes. His head began to pound again, but it simply felt like a pinch on the shoulder compared to the pain in his chest. Prentiss, the girl who had cared about him since the beginning. The girl who had helped him get through his problems. The girl that he had trusted to tell his deepest secret. The girl who could actually beat him at cards. The girl with the remark to everything. The girl who had saved him from terrible situations. The girl who could pick on him, but make him laugh all the same. The girl who was strong and brave, bold and caring. The girl who had become one of his best friends.

The girl who is dead.

And then fear came. If this could happen so easily to her, who's to say it won't be J.J.'s coffin he carries next? Or Morgan's? Or Hotch's? Who's to say it won't be Reid himself in the hospital, waiting to bleed out on the table? It could be any of them next. They were all easy targets, waltzing daily into danger. If they couldn't protect themselves as a team, who were they to protect _anyone_? Were they really even helping people?

Reid felt so useless, so helpless in his own world. The only times he had felt like this had been in high school…and in Georgia four years ago.

His head snapped up, intensifying his headache. However, he ignored it and got to his feet hurriedly. He was out the door in seconds and was at J.J.'s door in minutes. He knocked, waiting patiently. Will opened the door.

"Hey, Spencer," Will greeted, smiling at him.

"Is J.J. here?" asked Reid, his hands shaking in his pockets.

"Yeah, she's in Henry's room. I'll go get her. Come on inside," he said, swinging the door open wide for Reid to enter.

J.J. came into the living room a moment later with Will pushing Henry in a stroller.

"We're going to go out for a walk, see you later," said Will, kissing J.J. on the cheek.

Reid wanted to thank him, but words wouldn't form. They left, leaving J.J. and Reid alone in the room. She eyed him nervously, her face a little paler than usual.

"Spence?" she asked when he didn't say anything. "Are you okay?"

He lost it. Every mixed emotion he had been feeling all week exploded in one big yell. Tears followed it closely afterwards, but for some reason he didn't mind J.J. seeing him cry. She ran up to him and hugged him tightly, and he could tell she was crying now too. They stood like that for a while, holding each other and crying over Emily Prentiss.

Reid heard J.J. whisper something into his scarf and jacket that sounded like, "I'm sorry." He knew she was sorry for everything that had happened recently. So was he. So was the entire team. He didn't even think twice about her apology….


	7. Written Explanation

"_**Spencer, I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me."**_

Spencer Reid sat in the cold cabin for over an hour, rereading the letter in scrawled handwriting addressed to him. He had already memorized it the first time he read it, but none of it seemed to make sense. Gideon couldn't just _leave_. He wouldn't just throw in the towel because of one UNSUB. Then again, Reid thought, it wasn't just the one. It was all of them. Every UNSUB and every murder, boiling down to Gideon's own friend.

And yet, sitting in the dim light of the bright lamp next to him, Reid couldn't comprehend any of it. Gideon's words made perfect sense, but made no sense to Reid. So Gideon hadn't been avoiding Reid or the team. He hadn't been on hiatus this whole time. He had left. Never to return was Reid's friend and mentor…with nothing more than a piece of paper with an untidy explanation scribbled on it.

Reid stared blankly at the page, no longer reading, but trying to soak in the meaning of it. His brain had begun to pound against his skull, just as the piece of paper in his hands seemed to expand into another paper with slightly neater handwriting on it.

_Spencer, I know that this doesn't make sense to you now, and it may never make sense. I'm sorry for doing this to you, but I just can't handle it anymore. _

The letter his father had written to him years ago coincided with Gideon's letter to him now.

_Spencer, I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me. I'm sorry the explanation couldn't be better, Spencer, and I'm sorry it doesn't make more sense… But I've already told you, I just don't understand any of it anymore. _

Reid could feel a deep hole beginning to tear at his chest, which he didn't really understand. He had never felt so empty and lost before. When his father left him the letter, he had already known by then that his father was going to leave. The letter was just a pathetic apology. Reid hadn't felt loss or sadness then, just a burning anger.

But now, sitting in the cabin alone with his car lights blazing through the windows, all Reid could feel was the gaping hole in his chest that acted like a physical pain. How could Gideon abandon him like that? He should have known that a letter wasn't a good apology or explanation. If he really was concerned about quitting his job, Gideon should have told Reid face-to-face. But Gideon had actually _expected_ Reid to find the letter. He knew it would have been lonely Reid to come to the cabin to check up on his mentor. That hurt Reid almost as much as Gideon's absence.

He glanced at the badge and gun Gideon had left next to the letter on the table. Gideon was gone, done, starting a new life away from the team, away from Reid. He no longer needed them, just like Reid's dad no longer needed him and his mother. The only real father figures in Reid's pathetic life were gone now, both having left him with nothing more than a piece of paper and memories.

Reid debated calling Hotch, but having looked at the time on his watch, he decided against it. He folded up Gideon's letter with haste and grabbed the gun and badge. He slammed the door harder than he had intended to and flung himself in his car. He made it home in less than and hour and stormed into his apartment, the words in Gideon's handwriting piercing his mind like needles.

He tried coffee to clear his mind, but all it did was ensure him staying awake to brew over Gideon's departure. He couldn't even remember the last time he had felt so alone and infuriated, even when his father had left him. Reid did not cry, nor did he throw things. He just laid on the covers of his bed for hours, still dressed, with Gideon's letter on his nightstand.

His thoughts were so unfathomable and confusing that he became lost in his own mind, not sure whether he should be anger or hurt, or both at the same time. He did know if his emotions seeded from his thoughts about Gideon or his father, or both for similar reasons. All he did know was that he no longer had anyone to look out for him. He no longer needed someone to be a father figure. He wasn't a child who needed help or mentoring. Whether he was called Special Agent Spencer Reid or Dr. Spencer Reid, he was on his own.

It was then that Gideon's words truly set it. He hadn't meant to cause Reid pain or confusion. This wasn't about Reid, or the team. In retrospect, Reid noticed all the signs about Gideon's depression in recent weeks. This was about Gideon's sanity, his happiness, and his lack of control over both of them.

No matter how many UNSUBS they catch and arrest, no matter how many people they save, there will always be more murderers and more victims. Gideon had to lose six agents, hundreds of victims and finally his good friend before he looked at the bigger picture and backed out. Reid wondered how long it would be before the entire team did the same.

Before he even knew it, his alarm went off next to him. Six hours had passed of him lying in bed, thinking about Gideon. He changed his clothes and splashed cold water on his face. With Gideon's note, badge and gun in his messenger bag, Reid went to work.

"Morning, kid," greeted Morgan, eyeing Reid's dark eyes and raffled hair.

Reid did not respond to his greeting. He knocked on Hotch's door and entered with permission.

"Morning, Reid," said Hotch, sounding somewhat concerned. He looked almost as tired as Reid.

Reid pulled out Gideon's gun, badge, and lastly the letter and placed them all on Hotch's desk.

"He's gone," was all he said.


	8. Friend

Spencer Reid sat in the back corner of the jet with a thick book propped up against his knee. Although his eyes skimmed through the words with amazing speed, none of it actually entered his brain. His thoughts were directed on a member of his team.

Derek Morgan had lain down on the couch next to Reid and was now lost in a world of his music. The last case involving Billy Flynn and Ellie Spicer had reached a personal level with Morgan, and Reid knew that it was all still in his mind.

Morgan had gone through the verbal concerns from the other team members, along with a few EMTs, and had even suffered through the thoughtful and sad glances casted his way by them all. Reid had managed to avoid both. It wasn't because he was being heartless. He understood what that sort of spotlight felt like, and he knew that the worried looks and statements were close to torture. Reid remembered plainly that he sometimes wanted nothing more than a friend, not a concerned family.

So when the plane landed in Virginia, Reid caught up to Morgan as he opened his car door.

"Hey, Morgan," said Reid, getting his attention. "How would you like to grab a bite to eat?"

Morgan sighed. "Not tonight, kid."

"Come on," said Reid, refusing to take no for an answer. "You need a break. My treat."

Morgan eyed him suspiciously for a minute before nodding.

"Get in," Morgan directed him.

Reid could tell by Morgan's tight fists on the steering wheel and straight back that he was waiting for Reid to ask him if he was okay. But Reid didn't. Instead, he drew his mind off the case completely by asking him about books.

"My favorite book?" Morgan repeated, looking at Reid disbelievingly. "I don't know. I haven't exactly read much recently."

"Don't you remember a book that you used to read as a child?" Reid asked. "One that you could read over and over?"

Morgan puzzled over the question and then finally said, "There was this one book that my dad used to read to me when I was young. I asked him to read it almost every night."

"What was it called?"

"I don't remember," said Morgan, letting out a small chuckle. Reid even caught a glimpse of a smile. "It was blue though."

"What about your favorite restaurant?" Reid asked.

"That's easy. Olive Garden. You can never go wrong with their breadsticks."

They both laughed, and Reid couldn't help but smile a bit now that Morgan was feeling better.

For the next ten minutes they discussed some of their favorite things, disagreements and nods ensuing here and there. Morgan pulled into a parking lot in front of a local burger place. They both ordered burgers, fries and milkshakes. When Morgan dipped a fry in his milkshake, Reid raised an eyebrow.

"What?" questioned Morgan, his mouth full of fries. "You've never tried it?"

Reid shook his head, but tried it anyways, instantly loving it. Morgan chuckled at him, smiling. They chatted for a while about everything but work and murder. Their conversation landed on basketball, with Morgan's promise to cream Reid in a game. Morgan drove Reid to his apartment and put the car in park.

"Hey, Reid," said Morgan as Reid grabbed the handle to open the door. "Thanks."

Reid smiled at him. "Any time."

With that, he got out and made his way upstairs to his apartment. For a while at the diner, Reid had actually forgotten about even trying to distract Morgan. He had just been happy to hang out with a good friend outside of murder and corpses.


	9. Number 2 Pencils

"_**It's like trying to forge for dinner with a pair of Number 2 pencils!"**_

Spencer Reid got up from his work desk, having finished all of his paperwork and some of Morgan's, and grabbed his messenger bag.

"Ready, kid?" Morgan asked him, rising from his chair too.

"Yeah, and here are the rest of your files," said Reid, as he glared sarcastically at him and handed his folders back.

Morgan winked and thanked him just as Prentiss came out of J.J.'s office.

"She's going home to see Henry, so it's just the three of us," she informed them.

"Alright, and I know the perfect place to eat." Morgan winked at Reid, who was confused.

However, when they pulled up to the Chinese restaurant, Reid understood completely. Prentiss chuckled slightly as she glanced at Reid's apprehensive glare.

"Oh, come on, kid," said Morgan, swinging a strong arm around Reid's shoulders. "You knew one day you'd have to learn how to use them."

"Have I not explained to you my opinions on chopsticks?"

"Oh, you have," sniggered Morgan. "But every genius must learn how to use them."

They sat down at a particularly short table covered in cloths and looked through the menu. When the waiter came to collect their order, Reid asked for a side of silverware.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, "we don't have silverware here. Only chopsticks." When he walked away, Morgan and Prentiss sniggered.

"Remind me to never join either of you for dinner again," said Reid.

Until their drinks were served, they discussed their recent case with the taxi driver/scientist in LA. Reid shared more of his incredible knowledge of chemistry before another one of his headaches hit him again. He elapsed into a silent stupor as he sipped on his green tea, which tasted bitter on top of it all. He hated tea, but tons of books had informed him that tea is a great way to alleviate headaches. However, it had no affect other than make him wince at the taste with every sip.

"You okay, Reid?" Prentiss asked him as he winced again.

Reid nodded. "Bitter," he explained, pointing at the tea.

"What happened to your sugar with coffee?" Morgan asked, grinning.

"Trying something new," Reid said simply with a shrug.

He could tell that neither of them really bought that, but fortunately they changed the subject.

"So Emily," said Morgan, "how's your cat?"

Prentiss looked taken aback at the random question, but said, "Great. Best man to have in the house."

Reid glanced down at her hands and confirmed his suspicion; she was picking at her nails again. Reid had noticed this behavior from her in the past couple weeks, which was also similar to the time a few years ago when she resigned. Something was clearly stressing her out.

"And what about you, Pretty Boy?" Morgan teased him.

"I don't have a cat."

Morgan laughed, and even Prentiss smirked.

"I was asking how your love life is."

Reid took another bitter swig of tea and replied with, "Dormant." However, his migraines were not. He looked down at the table to avoid the bright light hanging right above their table.

"Hey, kid," Morgan said softly, "you okay?"

Reid nodded, and took another sip of tea. Still no help….

Morgan redirected his attention to Prentiss, who was now surveying the room. Morgan's eyebrow arched as he watched her, and she jumped slightly when she caught his eyes.

"It's a nice atmosphere in here," she said quickly.

They all sat in silence for a moment before Derek finally said, "Alright, what is up with you two?"

They both looked at him with too much innocence in their eyes. Reid and Prentiss glanced at each other and both said, "Nothing," at the same time.

Morgan stared at them incredulously. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you two have been in a funk recently?"

Both of them were spared answering the question when their meal arrived, along with the deadly wooden sticks.

Reid let out a small sigh, but he felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he picked up the chopsticks. His first three attempts to eat his broccoli failed miserably, and both Morgan and Prentiss were forcing back laughter watching him.

On his fourth attempt, Reid picked it up but accidentally flicked it to the next table, where a young couple jumped when the vegetable landed in front of them. Morgan and Prentiss lost it, both leaning forward in laughter, and even Reid couldn't help but chuckle as he apologized to the couple.

Morgan and Prentiss then both demonstrated how to use them, but Reid had never been coordinated with his hands, which he tried to explain to them.

"Come on, Reid," said Morgan. "You are literally defined a genius! You can do this."

It took several more attempts before he finally got the first bite, at which Morgan and Prentiss applauded.

"Oh, whatever," Reid scoffed, throwing down the chopsticks, and decided to use his fingers.

Prentiss handed him a ponytail. Sighing, Reid took it and wrapped it around the sticks.


	10. 30th Birthday

"_**How old are you? Twenty-nine—"**_

"_**I'm thirty."**_

Spencer Reid's alarm rang next to him on his nightstand, but he had already been awake for nearly an hour. Had his life really reached a point where he would wake up to his own chaos of thoughts? He glanced at the date on his clock, confirming what he already knew. His twenties were officially over, reaching a new landmark in his life: thirty. Sighing, he tossed back his sheets and got ready for the morning, pausing only to look in the mirror.

When had he developed such an older look about him? His eyes were glossy and tired, his hair was short and tangles, and the dark circles under his eyes appeared more prominent than before. Not long ago was he the new kid, wearing big glasses and a puppy-eyed expression. Recently, however, his expression changed into a rather somber one, even on his birthday.

While sitting on the metro with a coffee cup in his hand, he briefly dreaded the possibility of what his team would do this year. For the first seven years, his friends had gone overboard with his birthday. His first birthday celebrated in the BAU consisted of streamers and confetti around his desk along with a small cake. The next included a ridiculous, large birthday hat and a cake with trick candles. For his twenty-fifth birthday, he got a fourth of a cake and a fourth of the birthday song sung to him. On his twenty-sixth birthday, the team all came to his house that Saturday morning bringing cake and balloons. The next birthday occurred while on a case in Tampa, and they all took him out to a bar and celebrated it there. The following year consisted of another cake and party in the BAU office. And along with a small party on his twenty-ninth birthday, Morgan managed to convince all the agents in the bullpen to buy him a small pack of sugar to go with his coffee.

So yes, Reid was a little more than hesitant when he stepped out of the elevator. He pushed open the glass door and saw Morgan, Prentiss and J.J. sitting around Morgan's desk. They were chatting happily about something, laughing just the way they always had.

Reid felt the usual jolt in his stomach he felt every time he looked at J.J. recently. He could barely stand to be in the same room with her, let alone talk to her now. Every time he looked at her, he could hear every apology and every consoling comment she had thrown his way when he had visited her house, but now he knew that every one of them had been meant to deceive him.

"Hey kid," said Morgan, who noticed him walk in. J.J. and Prentiss turned around and smiled at him in greeting, which he responded to by putting his head down and rushing to his desk.

"Morning," he muttered.

"We were just talking about Lynch and Garcia," Prentiss informed him.

"And about when he's just going to pop the question," J.J. added, trying to get Reid to look up.

Reid nodded, still avoiding eye contact. He flicked through some of the new paperwork on his desk for something to do. Had they really forgotten?

"Morning, my sweets," said a beaming Garcia, bounding in wearing everything orange one could possibly wear without looking like a complete pumpkin.

"Morning," all but Reid said, turning away in an obviously guilty manner. Garcia looked confused, but carried on with, "Well, here is another stack for each of you." She passed them all a few more files each, including J.J., as part of her new training. "Have fun," she said, and turned to leave. She passed Rossi and Hotch, who said hi to her and the team and then carried on their own conversation as they made their way to Hotch's office.

Reid couldn't believe it. His entire family had actually forgotten his thirtieth birthday! Granted, things had been a little hectic around the bureau, what with Prentiss having recently returned and the court barely letting the team off. Were they really so wrapped up in everything else that they had spaced his birthday all together?

The day toiled on, and his paper work was done within a few hours. Morgan asked if he would finish a few out of his stack, which he accepted without complaint. When the clock on the bullpen wall showed five o'clock, Reid gathered his stuff and stood to leave.

"What's the hurry, kid?" Morgan asked him as he hurried past his desk.

"I've got some stuff to finish at home tonight. See you guys on Monday." He could feel Morgan's and Prentiss's eyes on the back of his head as he walked out and to the elevator. Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to get away from both of them.

Not that them forgetting his birthday really mattered, he reflected as he marched up the stairs to his apartment. The more he thought about it, he was rather glad that the team hadn't gone to any trouble over it. Then what was it that bothered him so much? It wasn't as if he had never missed a birthday party before. When his mother wasn't hospitalized, she had forgotten his birthday four times. He had received a phone call from her since then on his birthday, however.

Sure enough, when he got home, there was a message left on his answering machine. He listened to it as he made himself dinner.

"_You have one new message."_

"_Hello, Spencer, this is your mother. I know you are probably very busy saving some person right now, so I'm glad that I could leave you a short message. _

"_Thirty years ago today I was laid up in a hospital in severe pain. I was off my medication at the time, and had already suffered bad headaches and episodes shortly before going into labor. But I clearly remember every detail of those seven hours waiting for my son to be born. Mostly the pain, but that's beside the point._

"_The best part about that night was seeing my small angel fall into my arms. I knew, from that split second when I looked in your dark brown eyes, that you were special. You were meant to do great things. I've always told you, Spencer, a mother knows._

"_And you never proved me wrong. You grew up into the most brilliant boy I have ever laid eyes on. You flew through school learning whatever the world could throw at you. You stuck by my side through all of it, dealing with me even when your own father couldn't. You were special._

"_Then you took a wide step into the big FBI and have saved hundreds of lives since then. I could never tell you how proud I am of you, Spencer. You have done great things, and you always will. _

"_I know that life can be tough on you, especially at your age. But I know you, Spencer. I know that you are strong, brave and intelligent. No matter what hurdles life throws at you, I truly believe that you can handle anything._

"_So I'll end with this: I love you, Spencer. Happy birthday."_

"_End of new messages."_

Reid stood in his kitchen with a pot of water sitting on the stove behind him. He wasn't surprised that his throat stung with the effort of choking back tears. So not his entire family had forgotten….

**Real quickly, about the timeline, I'm going with what I got. Most websites say that his birthday falls around October 9th, so that's the general time here. Also, it says that Prentiss comes back after seven months, and she died in March, so that leads us back to October. Hopefully it all fits just between It Takes a Village and Proof. :) Let me know what you think!**


	11. Splitting Head

"_**How long have you had it?"**_

"_**Not really that long. I don't know."**_

"_**Can you be more specific?"**_

"_**Maybe two days."**_

"_Spencer Reid!" his mother shrieked at him from downstairs._

_Spencer shut his Moby Dick book on his desk, sighing, and got up. Downstairs, his mother was staring up at him, her hands on her hips and her hair disheveled._

"_Spencer, come here."_

_Spencer slowly came down the stares, trying to analyze whether or not she was having an episode. _

_When he reached the bottom step, his mother said quietly, "Pick."_

_He looked to his right into the living room and saw a stack of old books, ranging from poems to classic pieces of literature. _

_He smiled, knowing that it was a day where his mother would read to him. He rushed to the pile of novels and picked the third from the top. _

"_Ah," whispered his mom, standing next to him, "Margery Kempe, my favorite."_

_They sat down on the soft couch in their living room, Spencer on his mother's lap, and she opened the book. But instead of seeing the faded words on the rough pages, there was only a blinding light that stung Spencer's eyes and made his head actually ring with pain._

Reid sat straight up in his bed, sweating, and clutching at his forehead. The ringing in his dream had not faded, nor did the staggering pain that now attacked his entire brain. He threw back the covers of his bed and stumbled into his bathroom. He flicked the switch on, but the bathroom lights were almost brighter than the light in his dream had been. With the lights off, he splashed cold water on his face and rubbed his sore eyes.

He was so confused. He had never felt this type of pain in his head before. His eyes literally felt like they were being stabbed from the back. His head pounded in sharp waves, where each blink, breath and movement caused a severe ache in his temple. He collapsed on the bathroom floor and squeezed his head to relieve some of the excruciating pressure. He fumbled in his cupboard to find some sort of medication for it, and popped the first thing he found.

Reid laid down on the cool tile, feeling every heartbeat reverberate in his own head. Somehow, he fell back asleep like that, and woke up to his normal alarm at seven. He reached to his side to turn it off only to hit his shower. He sat up and looked around, forgetting that he had fallen asleep there.

He got up dizzyingly and went to turn off his alarm, unable to understand why it was so amplified. He rolled back into bed and stared at the ceiling before he finally got up and dressed. When he was making his morning coffee, though, his head began to pulsate again. It wasn't nearly as painful as the night before, but painful enough to have him double over and rest his head on the counter for a good ten minutes.

He could not, for the life of him, imagine what had brought on the sudden headaches. He remembered reading about migraines and headaches before in health books, but the main cause for them was stress. However, he couldn't picture a less-stressful time in his life. His job was going well, his friends were amazing, things with his mother were fine, and his own issues had all been dealt with.

So what dragged headaches into his life?

His head snapped up quickly, sending more pain throughout his skull. He knew a strong possibility of what could bring on headaches…. He mentally shook his head as he poured himself his cup of coffee. That couldn't be the reason. It wouldn't be the reason.

However often he tried to ignore it throughout the day, the headache did not disappear. The office lights in the bullpen had been excruciatingly bright compared to their usual dimness. It only added to the pain in Reid's eyes and forehead, but he had kept it on the down-low, fortunately. The last thing he needed was his team babying him because he was ill. They would suggest to take time off, tell him not to overdo it, keep him from doing his real job…he dreaded every possibility.

The pain had not subsided by the time he crawled into bed that night. By that point, he had considered drugs and a doctor. He decided if it did not go away by tomorrow, he would schedule an appointment.

Dreams were taunted by creepy images of dead bodies, and he'd wake up in a cold sweat only to find it harder to fall back asleep when it felt like his pillow was constantly punching him. When he was finally close to falling asleep, his alarm sounded next to him, sending another wave of pain through his head. Slamming his fist on the clock, he tossed back the sheets angrily and got ready.

He was in a surly mood all day, and wasn't surprised when Prentiss and Morgan asked him if he was okay. The day trudged on with no excitement, other than the huge mound of paperwork on Reid's desk. He got through the stack slower than usual, his headache causing him to reread several times. When he got home, he called the local hospital and set up an appointment for the next morning.

It took him almost two hours of laying very still in bed before he succumbed to welcoming sleep. When he woke up, he kept the lights off in his apartment and grabbed his sunglasses on his way out.

The nurse had directed him to a waiting area outside the CT scan room. He took a seat, a sudden nervousness consuming him. What if he got the very results that he had had nightmares about for years? Would this be the test that told him his life would be ending in his mother's disease?

**SRSRSR**

"Listen, Doctor, my mother's a paranoid schizophrenic who's been institutionalized, so I know—I know very well what mental illness looks like, maybe even better than you, and it's not that. It's not," he restated boldly, getting up from the table. He stalked out of the examiner's room quickly, pulling out his sunglasses as he walked. _Psychosomatic, _he thought angrily. It couldn't be that.

"_Your head is splitting because it is full of ghosts."_

So he's either haunted by dead bodies he's seen over the years at the bureau, or he's developing late signs of schizophrenia. Of course, no one can give a sound reason for his headaches. Perhaps it _was_ just stress that had been building up without him really realizing it. He just wanted a physical, solid explanation for why his head felt like it was tearing in two. No matter how many doctors he had to work through to get that explanation, he would get it.

Until then, his sunglasses would become his new best friend.

**Thank you all so much for the reviews! If any of you have any ideas on what you'd like to see, please let me know. I love hearing what you guys have to say. :) **

**Thanks to Foxy005 for the great info! And stick around for the next drabble. ;)**


	12. Surprise Party

"_**We missed your birthday? Why didn't you tell us?"**_

Emily Prentiss watched as Reid scribbled on the paper, and she couldn't help but smirk. It hurt her to hear him say that he didn't think he belonged here, when really she couldn't picture a better place for him to be.

He got up, swinging his messenger bag around his shoulder. "Hey, Emily." He looked at her with those big brown eyes. "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything," she said, waving a hand at the paper in his hands as she got up.

He nodded, understanding, and smiled. She missed that smile. It was so rare to see the brilliant smile on his face nowadays. Ever since she had returned to the team she had only seen that smile once or twice.

But she had not seen it on his birthday. She thought back to his birthday and tried to remember what they had been doing in the office. He had had to sit at his desk surrounded by his own family who had completely forgotten the special day to him. Prentiss had a guilty hole eating at her, the same way she had felt when she saw Morgan's sad puppy eyes the first day she returned.

The case ended on a good note, and the team flew back home the next morning after catching Harvey and Caleb. Reid was fast asleep on the couch, having only managed to keep his eyes open for about five minutes after the plane took off. Prentiss watched him from the other end of the plane, thinking about how to celebrate a forgotten birthday.

"Hey, Prentiss," said Morgan, getting her attention by waving a hand in front of her face. He took off his headphones and said, "What's on your mind?"

Prentiss shook her head and sighed. Leaning forward, she whispered to Morgan, "We forgot someone's thirtieth birthday."

Morgan drew his curvy eyebrows down in confusion. Suddenly they shot straight back up as the realization dawned on him. He swore under his breath and looked over his shoulder at the younger agent, who was still fast asleep.

"How could we have missed that?" he demanded of her, still in a low voice. Prentiss knew that he was angered and ashamed with himself.

"It was right when I got back from Paris," she explained.

Morgan rubbed his forehead and rested his head back against the head rest.

"I was thinking that tomorrow we could have a small party in the office."

"Party?" asked J.J., in a much louder voice, as she walked by with a cup of coffee in her hand.

Morgan and Prentiss shushed her and each grabbed one of her arms and dragged her down to their level.

"A party for Reid," explained Prentiss in a whisper.

"For Reid?" whispered J.J., looking over at the sleeping agent. "Why?"

"His birthday."

"Birthday?" she repeated. "But we already—" she broke off and slowly turned her head back to Reid. She sighed, letting her head and eyes drop. "We forgot his birthday."

Morgan and Prentiss nodded.

"When are you doing the party?" J.J. asked Prentiss.

"We were thinking tomorrow morning in the meeting office."

J.J. nodded and got up. "I'll tell Hotch and Rossi," she told them. She returned to the table where Hotch and Rossi both were at, filling out paper work, and leaned forward to talk to them. Prentiss watched Rossi's expression go from relaxed to saddened and puzzled. They listened to J.J. about the party the next morning and both nodded. Then, at the same time, everyone glanced at Reid, who was still asleep.

When they got back to the office, Hotch told them to take the rest of the day off. Reid was the first to leave. Morgan stuck around with the promise to inform Garcia of the party plans.

"Hey, baby doll," he greeted when he entered her office.

"Morning, my tired dove!" She hugged him and led him to her spare chair.

"How good are you at cooking?" he asked her.

"Well if you're asking if I should be on the food network, then I'd say I suck. However, I do make a killer batch of cupcakes," she informed him, smiling at him with bright red lipstick on.

"How about a birthday cake?"

"Who's the lucky fellow?" she asked.

"Reid."

"Reid?" she repeated, sounding like J.J. "But Reid's birthday was back in October."

Morgan nodded, waiting for it to hit her. When it did, he wanted to hug her again. Her eyes rounded and tears threatened to spill out of them. Her mouth curved down as she said, "We didn't celebrate it!"

When he shook his head, she said, "That was right when Prentiss came home! How could we have forgotten it? Never mind," she said as he opened his mouth to respond. "Don't answer that."

"Well," said Morgan, "We're having a small party tomorrow morning here, so would you be willing to come in early with a cake?"

She nodded, a full determination sweeping her entire face. "You will have your cake, Derek Morgan."

He smiled with all his teeth, and got a dazzling smile in return. "You know I love you, baby girl."

"Most do," she muttered, grabbing all of her stuff and throwing it in her purse. "I will see you tomorrow, Derek," she said, jabbing her keys in his direction. "I'm going to get the most amazing present and bake the most amazing cake for our baby genius. Love ya!"

She left Morgan alone in her office, surrounded by black computer screens. He sighed, still feeling the guilty dread in his chest. Then a new worry hit him: what on earth was he going to give to the genius this year?

**Again, I want to say thank you for the amazing reviews and info! :) You guys are amazing. Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see behind the scenes. Stick around for the next drabble!**


	13. Baby Geniuses

"_**You considering it?"**_

"_**Considering what?"**_

"_**Having baby geniuses one day."**_

Spencer Reid had been spared to answer the terrifying question when the phone rang, and was lucky enough not to be asked again. However, the question still remained in his head for weeks.

He was glad that his mother wasn't expecting him to have a child any time soon. Even though it was her disease that steered her thoughts away from the idea, he was still grateful that he didn't have to worry about her expectations unlike Prentiss and Morgan. Reid had heard on many occasions about their mothers breathing down their necks, waiting for them to get married and give them grandbabies. Reid couldn't even imagine falling in love, let alone having his own child.

He had considered it though…once. The thought of children had entered his mind on the day he sent his mom to the sanitarium. It was the very day he decided that he would never, in his entire life, want to put someone in the same position he had been in the moment his mother was dragged out of her own kitchen. Reid couldn't imagine the possibility of forcing his own child to have to make the same decision about him in later years. Nor could he imagine being fifty years old and having to watch the child he raised go insane. The risks associated with schizophrenia and genetics were risks he was very unwilling to take. Even if he _did_ happen to fall in love with someone, he would have held his answer firmly about not having kids.

And yet, sitting in the back of the plane on the way home, he thought about the alternative. He had never actually held a baby before, but he had seen them in the store and at movies, crying and throwing things at their parents. No matter how many times they did so, the parents would always smile and laugh. There must be something under the surface of tantrums and cries that Reid just hadn't seen yet.

He looked over at J.J. who was lounging on the couch of the jet. Her belly had grown immensely, her due date just around the corner. Reid knew how happy she was, and was more than happy for her. But he wondered what it would be like if he were looking at his own wife, seeing her protruding belly, and knowing that it was _his_ baby inside. Some things were too unfathomable to be tangible though, he thought sadly.

However, as he looked down at the sleeping Henry in his arms, he couldn't help but imagine holding his own child one day. The sweet, soft face, scrunched up in a concentrated sleep, the warm blanket coddled around his small body…Reid's heart melted. He looked up at J.J. and felt a smile break across his face as he stared down at his godson. This was the thing he had never seen under the surface.


	14. Why Reid Doesn't Drive

**Disclaimer: I'm not really sure why or if I even need this, but just thought I'd throw it in just in case. But FYI, I don't own Criminal Minds (real shocker, I know…). This is FANFICTION, right? Not WRITERS FOR POPULAR SHOWS, BOOKS AND MOVIES GATHERING HERE TO WRITE ABOUT EXTRA THINGS THEY JUST COULDN'T FIT IN THE FINAL STORYLINE…**

**Anyhoo…**

"_SPENCER REID!" Elle screamed from Reid's right._

"_I'm sorry!" he responded in a shriek of panic. He turned the steering wheel sharply to the right and overcorrected, almost crashing into the car next to them._

"_Kid," said Morgan from the backseat, "have you ever driven before?"_

_Reid nodded and took a deep breath, trying to control his shaking hands. _

"_I just…." Reid gulped. "I just don't do well with loud passengers."_

"_Loud?" yelled Elle. He glanced over at her, not surprised to see that her entire body was stiff, with one hand grasped firmly on the seatbelt and the other one around the handle on the car ceiling. _

"_Yes, loud." _

_He came to a sharp stop as the light turned yellow in front of them. All three passengers shot forward and slumped back. Elle closed her eyes and took three deep breaths._

"_If you guys would stop jumping and hollering whenever another car comes within ten feet of me, I probably would be fine," Reid informed the two of them._

"_Reid," said Elle, staring at him incredulously, "you nearly crashed into the car in front of you."_

"_That's because you gasped and flew out of your seat when you saw the car to my left almost cut us off!" he retaliated heatedly._

"_You looked like you didn't see him!" _

"_Guys, it doesn't matter," interjected Morgan from the back. "Reid, just keep your eyes on the road. And Elle, calm down and keep your mouth shut."_

"_I'm sorry if it's my natural instinct to scream when Reid nearly crashes into another vehicle."_

"_Twice!" yelped Reid defensively. "It only happened twice."_

"So that's why we don't let Reid drive," said Morgan, finishing the brief story he had been sharing with Seaver.

She nodded, eyeing Reid from across the bullpen. "Have you guys ever given him another chance? I mean, it _has_ been six years."

Morgan chuckled. "Yeah, I gave him the keys once. If you thought Elle's reaction was funny, you should have seen Rossi's."

"Who knew Italian men could squeal?" asked a smiling Reid, walking up to them with a fresh cup of tea in his hand.

"He squealed?" repeated Seaver, looking highly amused at the idea.

"Squealed once and prayed the entire way to the airport," responded Reid, sitting at his desk.

"And J.J. held onto her stomach for dear life in the back seat," added Morgan. "Reid is definitely not the best chauffeur for a pregnant woman."

Seaver couldn't help but laugh, even though she felt a little bad for Reid.

"The best part was when Reid pulled up to the airport," said Morgan, smirking.

"They all got out of the car and cried, 'Land! Land!' at the same time!" accused Reid with a frown. "You'd think I had run every red light in town and drove over a baby stroller by their reactions."

"Yeah, Hotch was spared that day when he decided to drive alone back to Virginia."

"Oh, whatever," mumbled Reid, turning around to do his paperwork.

Seaver chuckled slightly, staring at the tall, thin agent and wondering how anyone could ever talk down to him.

**Sorry it has been freaking forever, and sorry it's kind of a short story, but you take what you can, right? :) I'm going camping for a couple days, so I'll have the next drabble up hopefully by the end of the week. Any recommendations or ideas? PLEASE share! **


	15. Withdrawals

Spencer Reid had been staring at the vials for exactly eighteen minutes and thirty-four seconds. Next to them was a needle, waiting to inject. His mind debated over his true intentions with these vials as he eyed them down like he would an UNSUB about to pull the trigger. Twice already he had caught himself hesitating over the sink, the two vials about to be emptied of their contents. This was his second time having a stare-down with the little enemies.

Take them, or don't. Those were his only choices. Ease the pain and irritation and escape into a phase of euphoria, or suffer through withdrawals and memories.

It had been less than two days since Reid had pulled the trigger on Charles Hankel. He had spent the rest of that night in the hospital, getting x-rays on his feet and chest. There were several small fractures, but fortunately no broken bones. However, as Reid knew very well, pain did not always stem from physical injuries.

When Reid woke up in a sheet of sweat and shaking from the nightmare to a cold, dark hospital room, he knew it had been time to return home. It took a lot more persuading to let him go home than he would have thought. His team said over and over that he should remain at the hospital (and under their watchful eyes), as well as the doctors saying that his injuries would be better treated there. But Reid was already suffering from withdrawals by that point.

He had only ever had an actual cold a couple times in his life, and that's what his withdrawals had begun to feel like. He was weaker than usual, his muscles aching and not wanting to move, his nose running, his eyes watering, constantly yawning. His skin itched more than it had when he had had chicken pox when he was a kid. When Morgan drove him home after he had finally persuaded them to release him, a sick wave of nausea hit him. Trying to act normal in front of Morgan was incredibly difficult.

"Kid, you sure you don't want me to stay?" he asked again after Reid had told him to go home and get some sleep.

"I'm fine, Morgan," he assured him for the third time. "Now please, go home. You look more tired than I do at this point."

Grudgingly, Morgan left Reid alone in his apartment. The moment the door shut behind his friend, Reid booked it to the bathroom and threw up the little food in his stomach. After leaning back against the shower for ten minutes, he remembered the two things he had taken from Tobias in the graveyard.

Slipping them into his messenger bag had been tricky under the eyes of his team, but he had managed it. Pulling them out in his secluded apartment had been even harder. How could he have been so stupid to grab them in the first place? Did he really think they would help anything?

He walked over to the sink, uncorking them. His hand, however, froze, hovering over the sink. Maybe they would help. Maybe they could take away the pain he felt in his stomach, in his feet, in his head…maybe he could escape once again, like Tobias had told him he would.

Even though in terrible pain, he rushed off to the closest drug store and bought a needle. Returning home, he grabbed a belt from his closet and tightened it around his right arm. Then the next hesitation came.

What was he doing? Was he really going to throw away his life like this, stooping down to Tobias's level for an easy way out? His thoughts racked his brain as he furiously stared at the vials filled with clear liquid.

Sighing audibly, he yanked off the belt and tossed it harshly on the ground. He snatched up the two vials again and stood over the sink. However, his hand would not tip enough to empty the bottles. Irritability on top of the withdrawal symptoms and pain he was feeling boiled him to an all time high of anger.

So here he was, staring down the vials and needle. Thoughts ran through his mind, bringing him back to the graveyard and the small, bitter shack. Terrifying images attacked his brain…the eerie light bulb dangling threateningly over his head, the headstone in the shack that he blurrily saw after being resurrected, shadowy figures, the barrel of a gun, the small shovel shaking in his trembling hands….

His mind was made. Wrapping the belt around his arm as tight as it would go, Reid took a shaky breath. He filled the needle with the same amount of the clear liquid Tobias had given him and poised it over his pulsating vein in his arm. With another deep breath, he struck it into the vein and released the drug.

Falling back onto his bed, the images that had haunted him for hours vanished in a haze of white fog. Shouts about sins and God exited his mind as calm words from his mother's lips grazed his thoughts. Memories of old swept past him, memories of days spent with his mother reading poetry books or classic novels to memories of the kids in high school hollering at him in the lunch room and Reid dodging the items thrown at him.

A couple hours had passed by the time he came round. The pain in his feet and chest was dormant, the drug easing it away. The symptoms he had felt earlier were now gone, and his head was much clearer. With a glance at his watch, he rolled over and fell asleep almost instantly. If he had any dreams or nightmares, he did not remember any of them. When he awoke the next morning, he noticed a slight itch on his face that didn't seem to ever go away. Then the other symptoms started up again within hours of awaking.

His attention was once again drawn to the vials sitting on his kitchen counter. Thus creating the vicious loop he was now trapped in.


	16. Babysitting Henry

"_**You know, he could do a couple of hours."**_

"_**What could possibly go wrong?"**_

"There's left over spaghetti in the fridge that you can heat up for thirty seconds for him for dinner," said J.J., opening the refrigerator to Reid. "And we usually just give him whole milk." She closed the door and pointed to a piece of paper clipped to the fridge. "Here's the list of emergency numbers and mine and Will's cell ph—but you already know those, don't you?" She let out a sigh. "Spence, are you sure you're okay with this?"

"J.J., I think you should be asking yourself that question," replied Reid, smiling. "Honestly, it'll be fine."

"Are you sure you don't want me to write it all down?" she asked him again, grabbing a pen off the counter.

He snatched the pen from her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "J.J., I know this may come as a surprise to you, but I actually have a fairly good memory." He spun her around and directed her back into the living room where Prentiss and Garcia were waiting with Henry.

"Ready?" Garcia asked.

J.J. didn't answer.

"Yes," replied Reid, handing J.J. her purse.

"See you, Henry," called Prentiss and Garcia as they walked out the door. J.J. hugged her son tightly and said goodbye, promising to be back in a couple of hours.

"Spence, what's for dinner?" Henry asked Reid once the door shut.

"I was thinking an ice cream sundae."

Ten minutes later, Reid and Henry both had smears of chocolate syrup and whipped cream over their faces. Laughing, Henry stole Reid's cherries from his bowl. With a small yelp of protest, Reid reached over and stole a scoop of whipped cream from Henry's sundae and ate it in one gulp.

Afterwards, Henry wanted Reid to teach him a card trick. Pulling out his favorite deck from his messenger bag, Reid made him promise not to tell anyone his secrets. After swearing on his life and Transformers collection, Henry watched with wide eyes as Reid shuffled the deck and began to explain the steps of a simple card trick.

"A lot of card tricks are all about math and foolery," Reid informed Henry, who was listening to his words carefully. "It's all about tricking the mind to believe what you want it to."

He fanned out the cards. "Pick."

Henry excitedly picked a card and memorized it, placing it back in the deck. Reid continued, shuffling the deck again with professional hands

"Sometimes, card tricks focus on charming and distracting those watching. The performer," he said, staring at Henry, "uses eye contact and conversation to draw attention away from his hands. Thus, creating a simple magic trick."

With a casual flick of his wrist, he shot one card up in the air and caught it, showing it to Henry. "Was this your card?"

Clapping and giggling, Henry nodded and asked Reid to show him again. Smiling, Reid reshuffled.

After a good hour of card tricks, Henry decided it was time to relocate to the living room to play with the toys there. Reid took this time as a chance to perform a little sleight-of-hand. Using one of Henry's blocks, he secretly slipped it into the palm of his left hand while keeping Henry's eyes focused on his right. When he opened it, Henry's mouth fell and he immediately began looking around for it. After a couple seconds of them searching for the vanished block, Reid stopped him.

"Wait, what's that on your head?" he asked Henry. He reached up and pretended to grab the block off the blond's head.

Positively beaming, Henry started to clap again and asked Reid to make his teddy bear disappear too. After convincing Henry that he shouldn't do that in case Mr. Teds doesn't come back, Henry yawned.

Glad that the sugar rush had passed in the jovial kid, Reid declared it was time to get ready for bed. When Henry was in his pajamas and in bed, Reid pulled the covers up over his godson.

"Spence?" said Henry, sounding like his mother. "Will you read me a story?"

"Sure!" replied Reid excitedly. Henry told him a specific book to grab off the shelf, and waited patiently for Reid to get comfortable.

Sitting on the end of the bed, Reid began to read in his amazing story-telling voice.

"Once there was a baby star. He lived up near the sun…."

Henry was asleep halfway through the first page. Reid continued to read the story aloud though. Closing the book a moment later, he set it back on the shelf. With a kiss on the forehead to a sleeping Henry, Reid snuck quietly out of the room.

He glanced at his watch. It had already been two and a half hours since the girls left. Quickly, he cleaned up the evidence of their dinner in the kitchen. For safe measures, Reid also heated up a small bowl of spaghetti and ate it, knowing that J.J. would notice if it hadn't been eaten.

After the kitchen was clean, he moved into the living room and picked up the small toys and replaced them neatly. He grabbed a book from his messenger bag and began to read. He finished it and three others he had brought with him within an hour. Bored, he started to read Will's collection on fishing, football, hunting and a Police Academy textbook. Once he had finished the books from Will's shelf, he began to worry.

It had been over six hours since they had left. His three calls to them were left unanswered, and he had no clue where they said they were going. Best case scenario, they were just caught up in the moment and were simply enjoying the night. Worst case scenario, they were dead on the side of the road.

Reid shook his head, hoping to shake out his thoughts with it. Trying not to dwell on the eight different things he pictured that could prevent them from coming home, he flicked on the television. The first thing on was a news video about a car crash that killed two teens earlier that evening.

Hurriedly, he turned the TV off, taking a deep breath. He tried calling again only to be directed to J.J.'s voicemail, which he hung up on.

_A couple of hours_, thought Reid. They said they would only be gone a couple of hours. Certainly six was more than what they were planning. Reid ruled out the possibility of J.J. lying to him about when they'd be back.

Then again, Emily Prentiss was declared dead by her.

Reid sighed audibly. He wouldn't bother travelling down that lonely path again. Some treacherous waters were better left unstirred.

Reid rolled over on the couch and fought against his eyelids from closing on him. Try as he might though, sleepiness took over. When he woke up, it was to a car pulling up to the driveway. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Reid got up and walked over to the front door.

He pulled it open to reveal three swaying girls and a taxi driving away.

"Spence!" shrieked J.J., stepping clumsily through the doorway and throwing her arms around him as she fell forward. Reid choked back a grunt as he smelt the stench of alcohol in her breath.

"Spence," she repeated, slurring, "we had the best time."

"I'm sure you did, J.J.," said Reid, pulling her up straight and leading her to the couch. Prentiss and Garcia followed, giggling slightly.

"The bartender really liked us, so he gave us three rounds of free drinks each!" exclaimed J.J. loudly as Reid sat her down. He hoped she wouldn't wake Henry up.

"That's great," he mumbled. "How drunk are you two?" he asked Garcia and Prentiss.

"Oh, my name is Emily, not Two," said Prentiss.

Reid sighed heavily. "I'll go make a pot of coffee," he told them as the other two girls collapsed like J.J.

_Great_, he thought bitterly. Now he gets to take care of three drunks. He returned to the living room when the coffee started brewing to find his three friends passed out, J.J. and Garcia on the couches, Prentiss on the floor.

Oh yes, he was definitely going to be as loud as possible later at the triathlon.

**Thanks again for all the awesome reviews you guys! They brighten my day :) **

**Let me know if there is anything you guys would like to see with our Boy Wonder. **


	17. Payphone

**Alright, apologies first. Sorry it has been freaking forever since the last update! School and work have filled my time, which sounds like a lame excuse but it's kind of true. And now they have me working on Wednesday nights! Noooooooo! **

**Anyhoo, I was going to update sooner, but I really wanted to write about mysterious payphone lady. So, here you go. :)**

Spencer Reid sat back down at the table with a heavy sigh. His heart was still sending rhythmic beats through his ears as it tried to calm down. It hung loosely in his chest as he stared at the book in his hands. This had been his chance to finally meet her, but he had ruined it all on a mere fleet of suspicion.

Of course, blaming himself would be stupid. Only two weeks had gone by without a word from her stalker, it's only logical to be alert of him returning. Paranoid may have been a better word for what Reid was feeling, but either way…

His heart froze in its slowed beat for a split second. Until he could find a payphone and call her, she would believe that her stalker had returned. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Reid yelled at himself. Now she would fall back into reclusion in her house in fear again! Reid stood up and kicked his chair away. He shoved the two books into the gift bag and flung a tip on the table. The two men that Reid had marched up to earlier under false impression eyed his dramatic exit.

Reid stormed out of the restaurant and down the street, his eyes scanning for a payphone. It took nearly five minutes to find one. He tossed the gift bag on the shelf inside it, shoved a coin in the dispenser and hurriedly dialed her number. After one drawling ring, he clumsily shuffled the phone back on its hook and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally after seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds of nervous fidgeting and an occasional tugging of his tie, Reid snatched the phone back up and redialed. He glanced at his watch as he anticipated the screeching ring of the phone. Two more minutes passed in his quiet expectancy before a light tap at the door roped his attention.

And older man stood outside the phone booth, his eye brows raised and his mouth at a fine line parallel to the wrinkles of his forehead. Reid held up one finger with a pleading look and glanced back at his watch.

The old man tapped harder on the glass door this time, his impatience evident. Again, Reid held up another finger and waited…

"Ya can't hang out in there all night, man!" came the muffled voice of the guy outside. "I'll call the cops on ya!"

Irritation overlapped his anxiety and he reached in his pocket for his badge. The man backed away quickly but when Reid held the badge up to the glass displaying the large letters FBI, the old man grunted and, with a wave of his hand, shuffled away.

Reid picked up the phone again to redial. With his finger dangling in front of the numbers, he debated if calling her right now would really be a good thing. Maybe she didn't want to talk to him anymore. Maybe she was so terrified now of her stalker that she wouldn't even answer the phone. Or maybe she's not home yet.

Reid gave up, placed the phone slowly back on the rack and turned to leave the booth.

The annoying ringing filled the small space, and Reid's chest exploded with anxiety and excitement. He fumbled to pick up the phone before the first ring could die.

"H—hello?" he answered, stumbling over his words.

"Spence?" replied the soft voice he had grown to love.

He let out the breath he forgotten to exhale and said hurriedly, "Maeve, I'm so sorry. The man who I thought was your stalker was actually just waiting for another friend. I was under the wrong impression and I scared you off. I can't tell you how sorry I am, but you shouldn't worry because your stalker is not back—"

"Spencer!" she cut him off. "It's fine!" He heard her chuckle lightly. "We'll just have to plan for another time."

Even Reid could feel the shocked expression drenching his face. "R—really?"

"I—I mean unless you don't want to…"

"No, no! Of course I do!" Reid quickly assured her. "Absolutely! How about Saturday? Same place, same time?"

He could hear her grin when she said, "Perfect! I'll see you then. Night, Spencer."

With a final swallow of his fear, he sputtered out, "Goodnight, I love you too." And with that, he gently placed the phone once again on the rack and leaned back against the wall of the booth.

He eyed his reflection in the glass window. Sure, his hair may be too long and his tie may be crooked, but he was himself, and that's all that mattered. With a small smile to his reflection, Reid opened the glass door and stepped into the chilly night. He pictured her elegant handwriting from the quote she scrawled in the book, and tried to picture the face to match. He strolled mindlessly for a second more in a daydream before he quickly turned around and grabbed the gift bag. He shook his head to clear his mind and then turned in the other direction back towards the restaurant. Love sure did make him lose sense of direction….

**Did anyone else laugh hysterically when he walked off in the wrong direction?! God I love Reid. Stick around for the next drabble, which will be up much, much sooner this time. Pinky promise.**


	18. Scattered Books

**Brief warning, if you didn't see 8x12 or maybe 8x13, you probably shouldn't read this.**

Reid slowly lifted his hand up over his head and tapped _one, two_ on the wooden door. He heard Garcia and J.J. mumble something and J.J.'s voice grew louder to emphasize that they "were all there for him, no matter what." Reid sighed to himself as Garcia agreed. Their retreating footsteps echoed behind him and he felt a pressure release his heart. There was no way he could face them after what had happened. He didn't want to look in a mirror, let alone anyone else's sad eyes.

A certain emptiness had taken over his body, where blinking took effort, breathing took thought and speaking…was not possible. His throat was sore from the choked feeling he'd had all week to stop himself from crying. Nevertheless, the heavy hole tore at his chest 24/7, never ceasing to rest…plundering on in its wakeful mourn.

Reid drug himself up with a great effort and sagged to his feet. It was amazing, the exertion it cost to simply make muscles move, and Reid was more than relieved to fall onto his couch five feet away. He stared briefly around his demolished room, books scattered across the floor in unorganized mounds and piles. A few clothes and blankets were draped over the couch and daylight barely snuck in past the curtains.

Yet again, he felt his eyes drift to the book. _The book_. It baffled him as to how such a meaningless object could cause his emotions to teeter-tauter between a giddy happiness and a treacherous sorrow. He felt like laughing and screaming at the same time. Insanity was really starting to take its toll on him.

And yet, as if guided by some need of comfort, he felt his hands reach out and grab the tantalizing novel. Pressing it close against his chest, he heard whispered echoes of Maeve's voice as he plunged onto the pillow. Her laughter chanted in his ears, her soft voice toyed with words. And then her face appeared, blurrily and slowly, but it appeared. Reid could never forget her face. Dark blue eyes danced around his vision, perfect and round. Her pink lips were soft and smooth like a rose petal. And her hair…rich, chocolate, long and beautiful.

That was how Reid perceived the front of the novel. Flip to the back and you see the true ending. Her ocean blue eyes were swimming with fearful tears. Her lips were trembling and saying "love you." Her hair was matted and frayed, and soon all of it was dripping in a crimson river. The bullet penetrated the perfection before him and blood traced down her face as her body crumpled to the cement floor. His screams quickly replaced her distant words.

Reid's eyelids flew open at amazing speed and his gasp for air yanked him upright. The book on his chest tumbled to the floor and fell open, but he paid it no attention. His shaking fingers fumbled their way through his long, tangled hair as he gulped down oxygen. A pulsating sound flooded his ears and his eyes had become wet again. Angry and distraught, Reid rolled off the couch, stepped over the blasted book and began pacing. Pacing was better. Pacing meant that he was still alive, that he could still function properly.

His eyes unfaithfully stole a glance once again at her case file on his desk, and his heart broke. A choked cry came out of his mouth as his knees buckled. Hitting the floor hard, he held himself and leaned forward, shaking from sobs. He tasted the salty tears in his mouth but could not find it in himself to not cry for her. His head spun at a dizzying rate and he longed for a way out of this hellhole.

The solution came to him in a sweeping bliss of enlightenment. There was a way out! He'd had it in his closet this entire time. The last time he had ever even considered bringing it out was when Prentiss had died, but this time was different. Instead of feeling disgusted at the thought, he welcomed it fully. He scrambled to his feet and rushed over to his hallway closet. The box he was looking for fell out and he hurriedly opened it.

His phone rang from his living room, but Reid ignored it. It was one of coworkers calling to ask him how he's doing, most likely Garcia. But there wasn't time to talk to them now. He slowly picked up the vial of clear liquid and then heard the machine greet the caller for him, which he listened to with a distant interest.

"_Hey Reid, it's Derek. Listen, I got a work question for you."_

Reid listened to the rest of the message with a more focused attention until a small beep ended his message. Reid glanced over at the phone and then back to the vial in his hands. What was he doing? He was an FBI agent! He'd been clean for years! And he was going to throw it all away with one stupid vial?

Another wave of anger and sickness boiled up in him and he smashed the tiny bottle into his wooden floor. A few cuts appeared on his hand, but he did not care. An idea for the team's case had just sprung into his head and, with an odd mixture of dread and excitement, he rushed to the phone and dialed Morgan's number.

**Did anyone else freaking cry in the other episode? Season eight is going to be a tearful season it seems.**


	19. Pool Kiss

Reid's stomach did a small flip as he gave into Lila's tug and fell into the pool. His clothes instantly became heavy with warm water and his hair immediately lost all volume it had had. When he resurfaced, his bangs stuck mockingly to the front of his face and his clothes drooped down. A bizarre wave of irritation toppled over his paranoia and the beautiful laughter from behind only annoyed him more.

"Yes, very funny," he said as he shoved his wet bangs aside. He could only imagine how stupid he looked just then. "Laugh it up, Lila. Hilarious."

He was grateful that his phone and pager were inside the house but a heavy object still clung to his hip. "My gun's wet," he remarked over her laughing. "Great."

Reid pulled it out of the water and set it on the concrete besides the pool. He turned around again and saw Lila, still chuckling, swimming up closer to him. A nervous giggle rose to his throat as he tried shaking off some of the water on his face.

"My clothes," he said as he glanced down at himself, thinking what Gideon or Hotch would say.

"Should've worn the suit," she remarked with a smile. And then her hand reached out slowly and wrapped itself around his neck while the other eased its way onto his cheek. He was effortlessly pulled towards her in the water and their lips met.

Reid's heart instantly became a rollercoaster, zooming downwards in a split second and then catapulting upwards the next. His arms wrapped around her waist under water and he felt his lips come alive against hers. A pulsating drum echoed in his ears and his eyes closed in response to the overwhelming emotions clouding his head.

In a short few seconds, his brilliant mind spun back into the startling reality. He was an agent assigned to protect her from a killer!

Along with a dreaded feeling of regret, he pulled away from her and sputtered, "This is completely inappropriate."

He looked into her dark eyes as she murmured, "Just go with it."

"This isn't—" But his sentence was broken as she leaned in yet again.

His mouth burned with longing as her lips brushed against his. A mysterious fog seemed to block off his conscience telling him to stop, and instead his hands gracefully grasped her hair as he pulled Lila towards his body and kissed her gently.

A breeze flew by and swept away the fog as he tugged away yet again. "There's this thing called 'transference', it—"

"You don't like me?" she asked him bluntly.

Reid's heart plummeted again as he squeaked, "What?

"You don't like me." It wasn't a question.

"No, are you crazy? Yeah, I do—"

"Because I like you," she said softly, closing in on him again. From that moment, his mind went fuzzy as he stammered out any words he could.

She gazed into his eyes intensely and he barely heard the words, "Keep me close," escape from her lips.

Mind still blurry, Reid tried to talk to her rationally but kept being interrupted with a kiss. And then another. And another. He had never experienced anything like this before! _Ever_! Never has a girl kissed his as tenderly as Lila did. Never has he ever wanted to shut up and kiss a girl back like he did then. But his conscience seemed to have won the battle in his head. His lips practically ached as the silence between them screamed for a final kiss, but guilt had burned its way into his heart now.

He had to tell her the truth about her manager. Reid knew that now was the worst time to do so, but it would draw them both out of the pool and out of the fantasy. Words rose to his lips and before he knew it, he was telling her about her manager's death. A hurt, devastated shadow casted over her face. He tried apologizing to her by sputtering out a bunch of pointless "I'm sorry"s, but she wouldn't hear any of it.

Reid could nearly feel the bond between them sever in that brief moment and she tugged herself out of the pool and screamed at him. She ran off inside the house, leaving him in the now cold and dark pool.

He sighed and ran his shaking hands through his damp hair again. Was he ever going to get things right?

**Thanks to marcallie for the idea! :) And thanks to all of you who review! They really do make my day!**


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